Another Fine Mess
by procol harum
Summary: Starts at the scene where Tom is thrown into the cell with Doug during La Bizca, and what happens afterwards... Noncon involved... Sequel is up and called Paper Wings...
1. Another Fine Mess

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

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Doug Penhall blinked his eyes slowly, allowing the adjustment from sleeping darkness to the dim light of the Hellhole he was in to be a success. Then he watched, almost helplessly, as two men with guns dropped the limp form of Tom Hanson to the ground mere feet in front of him. But if he moved, he was afraid something would happen to himself; or worse, Tom. A kick to the young man's stomach and the 'soldiers' left, leaving Doug alone with Tom. That was good, however, because Tom appeared to be in pain and Doug wanted to; he needed to, help his friend. It was his fault Tom was here; if he hadn't asked him to go to El Salvador with him, then he'd be back home in America, safe. But instead he was stuck here with Doug in this Hellhole.

Doug snapped from his thoughts when a soft moan passed through his friend's lips and he slowly headed towards the other man. His limbs were stiff and it was a bit painful to move, but Tom needed his help. And no amount of pain would prevent Doug from giving his friend the help he needed. Doug reached to help roll Tom onto his back instead of his side, and was surprised when Tom jerked at the touch. Doug waited and when Tom didn't make any more movement, he tried again. This time he was able to get a firm grip on the younger officer without hesitance, and he pulled Tom over so he rolled onto his back. Doug cringed when this elicited a small moan from the younger man; Doug hadn't wanted to hurt Tom; if he had. Where was Tom hurt, anyway? Doug couldn't tell and was afraid he may have hurt him further.

"Tommy? Can you hear me?" Doug asked, pushing some hay under Tom's head. "C'mon buddy, it's me, Doug. What did they do to you?" Doug pushed, but Tom just moaned.

"Please Tommy," Doug tried again. "I need to know where they hurt you."

"Hurts," Tom moaned. "Asked them. Not to," he continued, breathing heavily, as if speaking was painful; it probably was. "I-I said no," he quickly added, staring into Doug's eyes, fear filling his own. "I-I said. They wouldn't..." Tom paused, breathing in and out heavily. After another few seconds, he spoke again, "I-I'm sorry. I said no. They-they wouldn't listen." Tears now welled in Tom's eyes and he angrily wiped them away. "I'm sorry."

A sickening feeling attached itself at the pit of Doug's stomach and he swallowed hard. "What-what did you say no to?" he asked, although he had a pretty good idea of what it was. A moan once again passed through Tom's head and he mumbled, "Stuff."

The sickening feeling grew and Doug suddenly felt nauseous. He stared intently at Tom, noticing the lost and pain-filled gaze he held as he stared at the ceiling. "Alright, hey," he started, "I'm gonna lift your shirt and check for bruises, 'kay?"

The smaller man mumbled something and Doug sighed, reaching for the shirt, "Here goes nothing," he thought, pulling at the material. Once Tom realized what was happening, he jerked away violently, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. "No!" he yelled angrily; fearfully. "Don't-don't touch me!"

"Tommy," Doug spoke gently, "I told you; I was just checking for bruises. I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you."

"No," Tom whispered, confused. "You're not - you're not Doug. It's all a trick. Just a trick," he mumbled.

"No, Tommy, it's not. I'm real, okay? I'm really Doug Penhall."

Tom shook his head violently, "No no no," he mumbled.

"Please Tommy, this isn't a trick, alright? I'm real and I'm so sorry for getting' you into this -" Doug stopped short as a thought crossed his mind and he smiled. "Hey Tommy," he spoke casually, hoping that this would work. "This is another fine mess," he continued, pausing at the end, and hoping Tom would understand and continue.

Tom looked at Doug intently, then let his arms drop to his sides. Managing a weak grin, he finished, "You have gotten me into."


	2. No Matter What

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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A goofy grin spread across Doug's face as he looked at Tom. He could tell he was in pain, but that one sentence had sparked hope inside him. If Tom could even manage a grin, however weak or fake it seemed, then Doug knew there was hope for his friend. All he had to do was get him out of this Hellhole and then back to America. Back to America where he should have just left Tom in the first place. If he had, then the younger man could be watching Laurel and Hardy instead of finishing their quotes, injured who knows where and stuck who knows where.

"It's not your fault."

Doug looked at Tom, who had managed to pull himself into a sitting position and was now staring at his friend with _that look_. That look that meant he knew what you were thinking and that you were wrong. Doug had seen that look too many times; and too many times had it been true. It seemed Tom could always read him, and now wasn't any different.

"It was as much my choice to come here as it was yours. I coulda easily said no; I coulda said I didn't want to come here 'cause I was scared." Tom had to stop talking while he allowed his breath to even out, but he still continued to stare at his friend.

"You were scared?" Doug asked, reaching out a hand to support his friend as he started coughing and nearly falling over onto his side.

"Of course I was scared!" Tom exclaimed. "I go undercover in high schools, Doug. I knew all about what went done here. But I still came, scared and worried, because you're my friend. My best friend." Tom stopped and hung his head; his eyes were closed and he was once again out of breath. Having your head shoved under water and losing air like that really killed your lungs.

"You coulda said something; I wouldn't of cared if you'd stayed, Tommy. Marta's my wife, my responsibility. Not yours," Doug replied, watching his friend, a worried look on his face.

"Your responsibility?" Tom asked, surprised at Doug's choice of putting it.

"I mean, it was my choice to come look for her."

"Yeah?" Tom asked, opening his eyes and raising his head. As he stared hard into Doug's eyes, he continued, "And it was _my choice _to come here with you. My _responsibility_, not yours. Got it?"

Doug stared at his friend, a bit taken aback by the harsh tone and fierce way of explaining himself. "Yeah, I got it," he replied. "Crystal clear."

"Good," Tom muttered, slowly lying back down, resting his head on the hay pillow and closing his eyes. "Night, or day or whatever," he mumbled.

Doug said nothing, just looked at the steady rise and fall of his friend's chest. Maybe it was Tom's choice and responsibility to come here with him; but no matter what Tom said, he was now Doug's choice, _Doug's responsibility_. And he planned on getting him out of here. No matter what.

With a sigh and another glance at his friend, Doug stood. Tom's breathing had slowed and shallowed out, so he knew the younger man had drifted into the world of sleep. Being as gentle as he could, Doug lifted the younger man into his arms and he carried him to the corner of their 'cell' and carefully put him back on the ground. He sat him slightly upright and let his head fall to rest against the wall. The older officer had witnessed Tom's struggles with breathing, and knew the younger man would be better off sitting instead of lying. Doug's first step with Tom as his responsibility was keeping him alive. No matter what.

Doug lay down in front of Tom; if anybody came in, he'd be awake first and ready to fend off any one who tried to get near the younger officer. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and with one final glance at Tom, he closed his eyes and joined his friend in the land of the unconscious.

TBC...


	3. Promise Me

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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He knew there was somebody else there; he couldn't see or hear them, but he could _sense _them. Something in his mind triggered; _there was somebody else here._

A shuffling of footsteps came closer and all that ran trough Doug's mind was, "Protect Tommy, gotta protect Tommy." And his eyes snapped open.

When he had first sensed the presence, his subconscious had awoken and for a moment he had thought Tom had awoken. But Tom was _behind him_, and the shuffling was _in front._ This had sent off alarms in his mind and he'd fully regained consciousness; he needed to protect Tom from whoever was in this room.

And his eyes snapped open.

The officer's eyes snapped opened and he sat upright, trying to focus his gaze on the intruder.

A kid. He was just a kid.

He could still cause harm, though.

The kid moved nearer to Doug, but still kept his distance. Doug shifted forward; this kid may have been trying to distance himself from the two officers, but Doug still didn't trust him and planned on keeping him as far away from Tom as possible.

An expression of shock fell across Doug's face as the boy removed his hat; it wasn't really a threatening gesture, and the officer was wondering what the Hell he was doing. So he watched as something was pulled from the hat and placed on the ground.

Then the kid was gone as fast and as cautiously as he had come; taking quick strides yet making as little noise as possible. Doug watched him until the door was once again shut and locked, then reached for the item placed on the ground.

Food.

Doug smiled gratefully; he and Tom hadn't eaten since they had gotten here and was glad someone had had the decency to give them food. He moved backwards to the wall and sat beside Tom, unwrapping the package. He broke off a piece of the pita-like bread and bit into it as he lightly shook Tom. As Doug had expected, the younger man awoke with a start, fear invading his features. He passed over Tom's portion, which Doug had made bigger on purpose, and watched as he ate. Tom looked like shit.

"I'm fine," Tom spoke up, finishing his portion of the offered food.

How did he keep doing that?

"You sure? You look pretty pale and earlier-"

"I'm sorry," Tom cut off. "About earlier; about snapping at you. It's just, you always blame yourself for other people's mistakes. It just kinda pissed me off."

"Yeah it did," Doug responded with a smile. "And I guess maybe I do do that. But you're my best friend Tommy. And I'm your partner; which means I go to the same schools and learn the same stuff as you. I knew as much about what was going on down here yet I still asked you to come. I shouldn't have."

"I probably would of come anyways, once I found out what you were doing," Tom responded, looking at Doug. "Because you're _my_ best friend. And I'd do anything to help you. Shit man, you're practically my brother!"

"Yeah? So if I ever decided to sign up for that big brother thing, could I pick you as my little brother?"

Tom laughed. "Don't even get me started on that; you screwed me over on that too, remember?"

"Hey!" Doug protested, "I was just lookin' out for you. And what happened to you being here not being my fault, huh?"

"Who knows," Tom replied. "Gone with my sanity, maybe?"

Doug looked at his friend; had he just hinted that he was going insane. Because Doug didn't want to be stuck here with Tom if he planned on going psycho on him.

"Relax, Penhall. I'm not gonna go crazy on you. Not yet, anyways."

"Yeah, good," Doug smiled. Then his expression became serious. "Where'd they hurt you?"

Tom stared at Doug, surprised at the change of topic. "I'm fine," he repeated.

"Yeah? You didn't seem like you were so fine earlier."

"Well I am, okay?" Tom responded heatedly. "So drop it."

"Yeah, okay. I'll just ignore you then next time you say you're hurt, because apparently when you _are_ hurt, you're actually _just fine_," the older man responded with just as much anger.

Tom's face fell and he looked at Doug, eyes shining with pain. "I didn't mean it like that," he whispered. "I just don't wanna talk about it."

"Yeah, okay. But promise me you will soon? Please."

"I can't Doug. At least I don't know if I can," Tom answered, dropping his head between his knees.

Doug sighed. "Then at least promise me you'll try when you think I can."

There was a brief moment of silence which made Doug wonder if his friend had fallen back asleep. But when the barely audible answer came, he knew he wasn't.

"Yeah, I promise," Tom mumbled so low that Doug almost missed it.

But he didn't.

Doug smiled at the response. Now all he had to do was wait; wait for Tom's answer; wait for a way out of here; and wait for anything else that would prove to be helpful.

TBC...


	4. Safe

Thanks to deppfreak, lilagrace, and rubydoo who I couldn't respond to through the response thing... Glad you like it...

Oh, also wanted to thank Rubydoo for reviewing my oneshots, The Aftermath of V-Day, and uhm, I can't remember, but it's that other one you reviewed... Glad you liked them...

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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Tom wasn't sure when it had happened, but Doug had fallen asleep. He could hear his quiet snores and watched as his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. The younger officer wished that th older man would wake up; he didn't feel safe when the other man was asleep. He felt alone. He didn't want to wake him up, though, because he would probably get mad and then Tom would feel worse having his friend in a bad mood because of him. So Tom sat and stared at the window, wishing he could be out there instead of in here.

Doug didn't wake up before Tom was able to leave the room.

Tom had been standing at the window and looking out when he heard the door open. He turned to see two gun-wielding soldiers and fear-filled eyes quickly looked to Doug; the blonde was still asleep, oblivious to what was going on.

One of the soldiers walked towards Tom, who backed against the wall. He wanted to yell and scream for Doug to wake up, but knew they might kill him if he interfered. So he stood, like an open target, and waited. The soldier grabbed him by the arm and pulled him from the room; the other nudged Doug with a foot to ensure he was still alive – he was - and followed his fellow comrade.

Then Tom screamed, because he knew what was going to happen. Tom screamed at the soldiers to let him go, to leave him alone, but they didn't understand; even if they did, they probably wouldn't of cared all that much, anyways. They didn't care how much pain they inflicted, or who they killed; they just did it for fun, it seemed.

The younger officer found himself dragged into an all-too familiar room and only stopped begging when one smacked him hard across the face, yelling something in Spanish; something Tom took as shut up.

He shut up then.

He really didn't want to piss them off; they could go back and hurt Doug. Hurt Doug until Tom had succumbed to them and gave them what they wanted.. It hadn't happened, and no term close to friend or amigo had come up in conversation, but the young officer didn't want to take any chances. They could hurt him all they wanted; as long as Doug was safe, he didn't care.

Doug awoke with a start; something was wrong. He wasn't sure what, but he knew it had something to do with -

Tom.

Where was Tom?

Doug looked around the room frantically; Tom wasn't there, he was _gone_. They had taken him and Doug had slept through the whole ordeal.

"No, no, no," he thought angrily. How the Hell could he have let them take Tom? Angered, Doug turned and punched the wall.

He screamed in pain and anger and fear; he had let them get Tom, and now he was just sitting here while they did who knows what to him. He never should have brought Tom here; he had known it before and now the guilt had grown. He had gotten Tom into this when all along he had known it would be a bad idea. And when all he had wanted to do was get him out of here, he had slept while others did it for him. Except Doug had wanted to get the younger man out of here and to freedom; not to be tortured or -

"_They won't kill him," "They could, they might," "They could kill him and you may never see him __again," "They could throw his lifeless body back in here with you."_

Too many thoughts were running through Doug's head and he hated it. Tom was still alive, and Doug would make sure he stayed that way. It was his responsibility to pull the younger man out of this Hell alive, and he planned on doing so no matter what; from now on he would make sure they went after him, not Tom. He didn't care what they did to him. They could do whatever they wanted; as long as Tom was safe.

TBC...


	5. Rebelde!

I don't know Spanish...

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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Doug wasn't sure how long he had been pacing around the room, only that he had been doing so for a very long time and that Tom was still not back in there with him..

After finding out that his friend was gone, Doug had broken down. Tom had been his responsibility and he had screwed that up; just like he had screwed up with Marta. Now both were missing somewhere in El Salvador, and there was a good possibility that either one of them or even both could be dead. Doug just hoped that that wasn't true and that both were alive. Then Doug could get them both out of this country and back to America; back where they could be safe.

Doug stopped pacing when the door moved, a small stream of light floating across the floor. He readied himself for either an attack or the return of Tom. The door was then pushed open fully and a soldier came in, a gun in his hands. He glared at Doug as if saying he really didn't want to be here. Like Doug cared; he didn't want to be here either.

There was no sign of Tom and Doug glared back. "Where the Hell is my friend you sick bastard! What did you do to him!"

Doug rarely ever lashed out like that, but there were certain occasions where he was just plain pissed and couldn't help it; and this situation wasn't any different. Besides, the guy couldn't understand him anyways.

The man shoved the barrel of the gun into Doug's chest angrily and started screaming in Spanish. Doug didn't understood all of it, but he understood one word, "Rebelde."

Rebel. This guy wanted to know where the rebels where.

Doug casually shrugged his shoulders; he was American, he spoke English.

The soldier hit him hard across the face with his palm and screamed, "Rebelde!"

Doug laughed; they had taken Tom and now they wanted him to just give them information? Yeah right. Then the man spoke again and Doug froze.

"W-what?" he asked, his eyes clouding in fear.

"Thomas," the man replied. "Su amigo. Su amigo Thomas!"

Doug shoved the man back angrily. "Where is he?" he shouted angrily, then attempted some Spanish of his own, " Thomas! Donde está Thomas!"

The soldier smiled; the American spoke Spanish after all.

"Thomas para rebeldes!"

Now Doug understood. Tom must have not given them anything, and they were now willing to trade Tom for the rebel's whereabouts. And what made them think that after getting nothing from someone as small as Tom that they could just come and expect the larger one to succumb to their demands?

"No. Deseo Tom, usted no consigo nada." Doug was going to get Tom, and these bastards would get nothing in return.

The soldier angrily stormed from the room and Doug punched the closed door. That had gone quite well. Doug knew, though, that they wouldn't have just given Tom back that easily. That wasn't like them. He just hoped they _would_ give Tom back; give him back alive.

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_Interpretations:_

**Rebelde:** rebel

**Su amigo Thomas:** Your friend Thomas

**Donde esta:** Where is

**Thomas para rebelde:** Thomas for rebels

**Deseo Tom, usted no consigo nada:** A_ccording to my translator thing this means_ Tom desire, you not with himself nothing ..._ugh, I have no idea what it's supposed to say either..._


	6. Cookies and Beer

Thank you to LilaGrace and rubydoo for your last reviews

And this is for Deppfreak if you read this... I got your review for The Game and I just wanted to say thanks for the review... I tried emailing you, but that didn't work. And I couldn't find you on ffnet, so here's my thanks...

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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Tom had no idea where he was, or why he was there. All he knew was pain. Pain was everywhere; it seemed to taint every inch of his body, burning and scorching hot. He realized then that there were actually parts of him that did burn; his stomach, his head. And he had no idea why it hurt so much. Where was he? Where was Doug?

Doug.

Tom remembered them talking about something; something in Spanish. Then the term _tu amigo _had come up and Tom had realized they were talking to him. Talking about _his friend_.

Tu amigo; your friend. Doug.

Tom hadn't told them what they had wanted to hear, and now they were going to go after Doug for the answer. But Tom had been tortured, and he still had said nothing. How could they get anything out of Doug? He was stronger and could withstand a lot more pain than Tom could, and the younger man knew then that if he wouldn't tell, Doug wouldn't either. Because neither was going o betray the rebels, not for anything. They had helped them, and now it was time to repay them. No matter how much they were tortured; no matter how much pain they had to endure.

The pain in his head seemed to disappear and Tom slowly blinked his eyes open. He had been asleep, or unconscious. Now as he opened his eyes he realized he was back in his _cell._ Why had they brought him back here? They had tortured him, threatened him with Doug's life, and gotten nothing. So why was he back here? What were they doing? Tom had thought they were going to kill him because he hadn't given them an answer, but here he was, alive. For the most part. He heard movement beside him and nearly jumped up and ran, but the startled voice that he knew too well came to him and he calmed down. A little.

"Tommy?" Doug asked, surprised. "Oh god Tommy, I thought. I thought they had killed you."

"Me too," Tom responded with a small chuckle. "Guess we were both wrong."

"Yeah. Good thing. Are you okay?"

Doug turned so he was facing his friend and wasn't surprised at what he saw; Tom's right eye was nearly swollen shut and his entire left cheek was swollen and bruised. His lower lip was split open yet he was still smiling. A very weak grin, but it was there nonetheless. "Just peachy," he mumbled. "How do I look?"

"Like shit."

"So do you." Tom leaned closer and looked at Doug's face. "They came after you?"

"Yeah. Think I pissed the guy off, though."

"I can see. Nice bruise, man. A little more of that and you'll just like me."

Tom started coughing violently and Doug reached out yet again to hold hold his friend until the attack slowed and then ceased to exist. "You okay?"

"Not really, man. Everything hurts."

"Can I check for bruises now? I mean, you kinda freaked out earlier and-"

"No," Tom stated firmly. "You don't - I'm fine."

"Tommy, please. You can trust me. I won't do _that_ to you."

"Just leave me alone, okay?"

Doug stared at Tom incredulously. "Would you just stop and think for a second Tommy? Please. They hurt you; I know they did. And all I want is to help. Whatever they did to do, fine, that's your business. But I have a pretty good idea at what _it_ was, and I swear I am not going to do that to you. You know I never would."

The younger man's face clouded over in anger, then slowly changed to fear. "I-I know that. It's just - I don't you to touch me. I don't want anybody to."

"Okay then," Doug started. "I won't. Just lift up your shirt and I'll look from here, 'kay."

Tom looked nervous, then spoke slowly, "I-I don't-"

"Please. We gotta see where the damage is at. Ya just gotta lift your shirt; I'm not gonna touch you, okay?"

"You won't?"

"You know you can trust me, Tommy. Now c'mon, I'll give you a cookie if you do."

Tom laughed, "Where the Hell are you going to get a cookie around here?"

"I don't know. But I'll give you one when we get back home."

"Make it a six-pack?"

"I'll be getting' a couple of those, yeah."

"Okay. But just. Just look, okay?"

"Yeah, just lookin'."

Tom stood and slowly pulled his shirt off. It wasn't hard, with the material being thin and half already having been torn by the torture. Tom still pulled it off slowly, grimacing as the material rubbed against bruised skin, then held it in his arms, slightly shaking.

"Shit Tommy," Doug hissed angrily. "Did they kick you?"

"Just a little. But they got boots."

"Yeah..." Doug was staring at his friend's chest; it looked like they had continuously kicked one spot, because the whole left side of Tom was bruised a splotchy green-brown, with little red dots indicating a blood break.

"It's not that bad, 'cept I think they broke a rib or something."

Doug looked again and realized Tom's statement could be true; part of the bruise covered where ribs were hidden underneath the damaged skin, and if they had kicked there long and hard enough...

"Turn around," Doug quickly spoke, breaking apart his own thoughts. He needed to see how badly they had hurt Tom; he also needed to know where.

"They didn't kick my back," Tom replied quickly, nervously. They had a few times, but not as much as the front, but he didn't feel safe turning his back on anybody. Not even Doug, even though he knew he could trust the older man.

"Okay," Doug replied, not quite believing his friend. "Then we're done," he continued. "So that's a cookie and a six-pack for you."

Tom, mumbled something as he pulled his shirt back and Doug noticed he had gone pale.

"You okay?"

"Just tired."

"Yeah?" Doug questioned. "Then go to sleep, okay? I'm gonna stay awake and keep watch."

"What for?"

"Soldiers. No way they're grabbin' you again."

"Yeah," Tom mumbled, then he lay down in the corner, back facing the wall, and closed his eyes. "Yeah," was mumbled again and soon Doug could make out the soft snores indicating his friend had fallen asleep.

The older officer took a stand at the door, arms folded across his chest. He was ready to strike at anybody who came into the room. Nobody was getting Tom again. He would make sure of it.


	7. Lost In Freedom

Thanks to Lilagrace and rubydoo for their reviews...

Also, thanks to rubydoo for reviewing Valentine's Day...

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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Tom sat against the wall, knees drawn inward towards his chest; he had been in this position for a long time now, and luckily nothing had happened yet. But he knew something would; _things_ had been happening since he and Doug had been thrown into this Hellhole and there was no doubting that there was more to come.

He was staring straight at the door, trembling from cold or fear, or both. He guessed the latter, but didn't want to admit to being afraid; although he knew there was plenty to be afraid of. He just didn't want to admit it.

Not yet.

Then the door seemed to be moving and Tom froze, eyes glued to the wooden structure; if he was just imagining it, he was safe. If he wasn't, then anything could happen.

He wasn't.

The door opened slowly and a teen aged boy clad in the soldiers' uniform entered. Nobody followed, and he wasn't armed, but Tom knew anybody wearing that uniform meant trouble.

"Doug," Tom hissed loudly, trying to shake his friend awake. "Doug!" he tried again. now was

He was afraid now, and not scared to admit it.

He was afraid of the soldiers, afraid of dying, and afraid of anything else in this place. He was afraid that one of the soldiers was here with him and Doug wouldn't wake up.

"Doug!" the officer yelled so loud that he startled himself. The boy stopped and stared at the young officer, surprised at his sudden outburst; Doug awoke suddenly with a bolt, eyes wide and darting around the room quickly. He only relaxed when his gaze fell upon the intruder. He gave a nod, glancing at Tom, and the boy continued forward, pulling his hat from his head.

"Doug," Tom whispered fearfully, clutching at his friend's arm.

"It's okay Tommy; he's okay, he's just bringing food. He's the one who brought it last time."

Tom relaxed at Doug's words, but still watched the boy nervously as he pulled something from his hat and placed it on the ground a few feet away.

Then he was gone; the door shut silently, with a single click following to signal it was once again locked.

Doug moved forward then and grabbed the food, unwrapping it as he made his way back to the wall. He sat against the wall beside Tom, and once again broke a larger piece off for his friend.

"Thanks," Tom mumbled, biting into the hard pita-like food.

"Not bad," Doug spoke up. It tasted like bread, but with a sour taste. He didn't mind, though; he was just grateful to have _something _to eat. "Tastes a bit sour, though. But it's kinda good."

"Yeah," Tom agreed. He felt sick and didn't really feel like eating any more.

"You okay?" Doug asked, turning to face the younger man.

"Yeah. Just not that hungry, I guess," Tom responded, passing the food to Doug. "Here, you can have it."

"You gotta eat somethin' Tommy," Doug said, pushing Tom's hands away. He wasn't going to take away the only food his friend had. No matter how hungry he was.

"I can't, I feel sick, man," Tom continued, pushing his share into Doug's chest and letting the food fall into the lap of the older man.

"Oh," Doug responded, a little worried at Tom's sudden sickness. "Well - Just try and sleep it off or something, okay?"

"I-I'm not tired, Doug. I just wanna go home."

Doug sighed and wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Me too. And I swear I'm gonna get us there. No matter what."

"Yeah," Tom mumbled, struggling out of his friend's hold. He didn't like the feeling the simple grip had done; it had made him feel trapped. And feeling trapped made him feel scared and alone.

He didn't want to be alone.

"Sorry," Doug said quickly, remembering Tom's earlier outburst at being touched.

"It's okay. I know you didn't mean anything by it."

"Yeah," Doug replied.

Tom pushed himself into a corner and pulled his knees to his chest once again. He had positioned himself so he was facing the solitary window of the room, and now stared out it, blocking out everything else around him. Staring out into 'freedom' made him feel safe; it made him feel like he was finally free. Even though he knew he wasn't, and that he probably never would be.


	8. Truth and No Emotion

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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"_They raped me."_

Three words. Just three words and Doug had been told everything. He had had the feeling that that was what had happened; the feeling and dread of those thoughts and ideas had been growing in his stomach for awhile now, and it had all just been brought to a truth filled conclusion. But he hadn't expected Tom to just up and say it; to just suddenly, out of the blue, confide in Doug what the soldiers had done to him. There had been no feeling in his voice; just a flat tone as he spilled it out so suddenly and discreetly. And that scared Doug.

It scared him to know that Tom could seem so distant at the spoken truth of his abuse; it scared Doug that Tom didn't even seem to care as he spoke those three words. Just three words and Doug was afraid for his friend's life. What if Tom began to feel guilty, or scared, or dirty, or anything, and tried to harm himself? Doug could see it in his eyes; a distant, faded gaze had attached itself in those brown orbs and Doug knew what it meant; he had seen it in too many of the kids he had busted before. It meant that the owner of the gaze had drifted from life; it meant they had nearly detached themselves from their body, as they allowed all of their emotions to be washed away.

Doug had seen it in his own eyes.

Now he saw it in Tom's. And he was scared for the other man's life.

But Doug was determined; he wasn't going to let the soldiers harm Tom, and he definitely wasn't going to let the younger harm himself either. Tom _was_ his responsibility after all, and that meant it was his job to protect him from harm; be it self-inflicted or not. Doug would protect him no matter what; he would get Tom out of here alive and make sure he stayed that way for a long time after.

"I'm not going to kill myself."

_There he goes again._

"I know..." Although Doug wasn't entirely certain he believed Tom's words. Maybe before, but not now; not after what Tom had told him.

Still in that flat-toned voice, Tom continued, "They dragged me into a room. I thought they were going to kill me." A weak laugh escaped Tom's no-emotions facade, but it just as quickly vanished as it had come. Then there was that emotionless voice again, "They just picked me up and then my head was underwater; it stated to hurt, 'cause I couldn't breathe, but when I did - When I tried to breathe, I mean, I swallowed a lot of water. Then they pulled me out. I was coughing so bad and this one guy starts shouting some Spanish at me. I didn't understand, I just shook my head no." Tom focused his gaze on Doug, and laughed. This time it was as distant and emotionless as his voice, and it chilled Doug to the core. It sounded so eerie hearing that sound escaping his friend's lips. It wasn't Tom. At least not the Tommy Hanson that Doug knew. Then the younger man continued, "It was kinda funny, at first. Then he started screaming 'rebelde'. Then; then I understood. But I never said anything, just shook my head and said no. So they put me back under. They kept doin' that a few more times, but I never told." This time when Tom looked at Doug, there was fear once again shining in his eyes. "I swear I didn't. I never told them anything." His voice wasn't distant anymore; this time it was laced with fear and cracked with almost every word..

"I know that, Tommy. I believe you," Doug replied, worried about his friend. He knew Tom wouldn't betray the rebels. It wasn't in his nature; Tom would never betray anybody.

Then the fear was gone; his eyes were once again faded and distant, his voice as cold as before, "Yeah." There was that laugh again. "Then the guy who was screaming threw me on the ground. I was coughing and I couldn't breathe, but he kicked me. He just kept kickin' me. It hurt so much, and I think I lost consciousness for a minute. But then. Then I felt them... They were -" Tom's voice cracked this time, and tears fell down his face. "I tried to tell them no, to stop. But they wouldn't. I swear I didn't want them too, Doug. I told them no. I-I told them – but they wouldn't, they wouldn't stop."

Tom's head fell and he pulled his knees even closer to him, wrapping his arms around the bent limbs. Doug heard the sobs and quickly hurried over. He wrapped both his arms around his friend, not caring about how awkward it seemed or felt; Tom needed this more than either of them could ever know, and Doug wasn't going to let go.

Not yet.

Doug held the younger man tightly as the sobs continued, relaxing when he felt his friend's body weaken in his grip. Tom had succumbed to the embrace, and Doug was glad. Now all he had to do was get Tom out of here; maybe even get to kill a few of those bastards along the way.


	9. Freedom?

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

"We're not gonna get outta here are we?"

One simple question, and Doug really thought that no was the answer. But he didn't want to tell Tom that; he wanted the other man to believe that they were going to get out of here. Because a part of Doug knew he had to; another part knew he had to get Tom out of here. But now he was starting to think that that was never going to happen. Yet there was still a small chance; there was always a chance for anything.

"'Course we are Tommy. They can't keep us here forever, ya know?"

"Wouldn't they just kill us then?"

Doug didn't respond; what did you say to a friend who had just told you they were probably going to be murdered? "Of course they might!" didn't really seem like the best thing to say, so Doug just kept his mouth shut.

"Doug?" Tom spoke up. "They will; they're just gonna kill us, right?"

"Don't say that, man. Just stop talkin' about it," Doug responded, not wanting to talk about _that_.

"Yeah, sure," Tom muttered. He was once again staring out the window; he was once again imagining the freedom he would never know. The freedom he had had once, but was no longer entitled to. Because he was stuck here until he died or was killed. To him, there was no way of getting out of here besides death.

"We're not going to die here, Tommy," Doug spoke up, not believing his own words. "I'm gonna get you outta here, I swear."

"Yeah, okay," Tom muttered, knowing that the only way Doug could keep his promise was if he were to kill Tom. Death was the only way out, after all.

"Yeah."

Tom was sitting, staring out the window, once again blocking out the world around him. It was better this way, he knew, not being able to hear or see anything besides his dreams. Because in his dreams he was happy and free. Without them, he was alone and trapped. And he didn't like being alone. Trapped he could deal with , but he didn't like being alone in this place; being alone in this place scared him.

"Tommy," Doug spoke up. "Tom, you hear that?"

Tom wasn't listening to Doug, and only had his attention focused on the older man when he was shook by the shoulder. "Tommy, someone's out there, shooting."

"What?" Tom asked, not quite sure he had heard right.

"Outside, c'mon."

Doug stood up, then bent over to help Tom stand as well.

"I'm fine," Tom protested, pushing Doug away. He wasn't, and nearly fell when the grip was gone. If Doug had not grabbed him once again, he would be on the ground. With an arm around Tom's waist to steady him, Doug headed to the window, the younger moving beside him. Doug looked out first, and was sure he was imagining what he saw out there.

Rebels.

Rebels were emerging, running out of the trees, shooting at anybody who got in their way. Soldiers shot back, and the gunfire increased. Bodies fell, and more rebels came. Maybe Doug could get Tom out of here, after all.

"Doug, is that-"

"Yeah Tommy, c'mon."

Doug had just moved away from the window when they heard gunshots outside the door. Tom tensed beside Doug as they moved slower, closer. They were beside the door now, and had just looked through when sparks flew at them. Tom grabbed onto Doug and they pushed back against the wall, into the shadows. Here they waited; for Death or for freedom, they were not sure. But they would know soon enough.

The door was kicked open and Tom gripped Doug tighter, then they moved out from behind the door and into the door frame. It was a rebel.

Both officers stopped, staring wide-eyed, as the man pointed his gun at them, ready to fire. Tom knew this was it; had know all along he would die here. And now his thoughts were going to be proven.

Then there was another voice, female. She was calling out, "Ganchi, Ganchi," and both officers knew who was pointing the gun at them.

Ganchi turned his head quickly to the side, and Tom looked at Doug, relief flooding his features. Maybe he wasn't going to die, after all.

She started talking to him in Spanish again and with one quick glance back at the two prisoners, he ran off, a scowl on his face. Now Tom relaxed slightly, and loosened his hold on Doug's neck a little. Not completely, because he still needed the support to stand, but enough so that his nails were no longer clawing into the other man's neck.

Then La Bizca was there, worry etched into her features. "Are you okay," she asked, voice laced with a Spanish accent.

"Are _you_ alright?" Doug counter-asked, worry evident in his tone. He and Tom were moving out of the room now; he and Tom were finally free. Right when they were both ready to give up, they had gotten out; Doug had gotten Tom out.

"I was lucky," she responded, raising her arms and backing away so Doug and Tom could fully move out of their cell. "We must hurry," she added, as the three started walking down the hallway.

"How did you know we were in there?" Doug asked, trying to walk and hold Tom up at the same time. It wasn't hard, with Tom being smaller, it was just easier to walk without someone holding onto you. But Doug wasn't about to complain; he was going to get Tom out of here _no matter what_.

"We didn't," La Bizca started, "War at (?) has been come for long time."

"Wha-" Doug started, but was interrupted.

"We had a man inside, he told us you were here," La Bizca continued. "We came for another prisoner and some guns," she added as they turned a corner and headed down some stairs. They passed a body and Tom stared at in shock, moving behind Doug. The latter reached for Tom as he moved behind him, helping him towards the stairs. Tom was still staring in awe at the body when La Bizca yelled, "We must hurry, come on!" Doug reached out a hand to his friend and Tom once again had his arm wrapped around the other man's neck. Doug knew Tom could probably walk on his own now, but the limp Tom had worried him; he was afraid that without his support, the younger man might fall down the steps. With an urgent order in Spanish, the officers quickened their pace, Tom taking one last glance at the corpse.

They continued down one more set of stairs, Tom stumbling slightly, and came to a corridor with more dead bodies. Some wore the soldiers' uniforms, and others were clearly rebels. Doug quickly pulled Tom through the mess, not wanting his friend to see too much, but Tom couldn't seem to pull his eyes off of the bodies. "I think I'm gonna be sick," the younger man muttered and Doug stopped.

"Tommy, look at me, okay?" Doug started, wanting to get his friend's attention focused on him. "Just don't look at them, okay? We gotta get outta here, and if you're sick, that'll just stall us, 'kay?"

"I know, it's just. There's so many. I can't help it."

"I know, I-"

"We must hurry," Came La Bizca's sharp order, and Doug smiled weakly. "Just think Tommy, the faster we're outta here, the faster you get your cookie."

"Think I just want the beer now," Tom chuckled. "I could really use a beer right now."

"Then let's hurry so we can get some, huh?"

"Yeah," Tom agreed.

"Atta boy!" Doug responded, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Let's get going, then huh?"

Both men continued on, following the young woman, and after passing through one more hallway and down one more flight of stairs, they were outside. They were finally free.

And neither really believed that they actually were.

"We're free now Tommy," Doug exclaimed. "Told ya I'd get you outta there, right?"

"Yeah," Tom whispered silently. Out here, were there was more light, Doug could clearly see how pale his friend was. And he was about to stop and ask if Tom was alright when gunshots littered the air. The older man dove to the ground, pulling Tom with him, as La Bizca shot at whoever was shooting at them. There were other rebels there as well, so soon any soldiers still alive and shooting were dead.

"It is okay now," La Bizca told the officers and Doug slowly stood.

"Tommy?" Doug asked, looking down at his friend's form. He wasn't moving and Doug was afraid he had been shot.

"Tommy, oh god, no," Doug mumbled. No way Tom was dead. Not now; not after all they had gone through to get out here, to stay alive. There was no way he could be dead.

"Please, no," Doug spoke, kneeling down next to the limp form. He rolled the body over and...

* * *

The question mark: I don't know what La Bizca said... 

TBC...


	10. The Village

Deppfreak - Thanks for reviewing now... not sure about the e-mail thing... I might have typed something wrong... You don't need to be an author to have an account... Thanks for the review...

Thanks for your review on Valentine's Day as well...

LilaGrace: Oh, sorry...

Thanks so much for the review, and glad you're enjoying this... But Tom, well... You'll have to read to find out what happened...

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

"_We're free now Tommy," Doug exclaimed. "Told ya I'd get you outta there, right?"_

"_Yeah," Tom whispered silently. Out here, were there was more light, Doug could clearly see how pale his friend was. And he was about to stop and ask if Tom was alright when gunshots littered the air. The older man dove to the ground, pulling Tom with him, as La Bizca shot at whoever was shooting at them. There were other rebels there as well, so soon any soldiers still alive and shooting were dead._

"_It is okay now," La Bizca told the officers and Doug slowly stood._

"_Tommy?" Doug asked, looking down at his friend's form. He wasn't moving and Doug was afraid he had been shot._

"_Tommy, oh god, no," Doug mumbled. No way Tom was dead. Not now; not after all they had gone through to get out here, to stay alive. There was no way he could be dead._

"_Please, no," Doug spoke, kneeling down next to the limp form. He rolled the body over and..._

He was breathing. Tom was breathing. Doug let out a sigh of relief; Tom was still alive. But unconscious. Doug panicked; had Tom been shot? Doug had pulled him to the ground after a couple of shots, so there was a possibility. A very slight possibility. Doug just hoped he was wrong. After gently lying the younger man on the ground, Doug quickly checked his friend over; dried blood stained his shirt, but there was no visible fresh blood. No red seeping through the dark material. That meant he hadn't been shot.

He hadn't been shot.

"He-he's okay," Doug muttered. "Oh thank God he's okay." Doug pulled the younger into his chest and started crying. After all they had gone through; after everything Doug had done to get Tom out of there, it seemed like it had all come to an end. For a slight moment it had seemed like everything had gone to waste. But nothing had. Tom was alive. He was unconscious, but alive. And Doug smiled. He had promised to get the younger man out alive, and here he was; out of that Hellhole and alive. Doug had succeeded.

"Douglas," came La Bizca's soft voice. "We must hurry now. Will you be able to carry Thomas?"

"Yeah, yeah 'course I will," Doug replied, standing. He was going to get Tom back to America, and if he had to carry him there, then – Doug was going to carry him there. Wiping the moisture out of his eyes, Doug carefully picked up the younger man, not wanting to jolt him awake. Because he had seen Tom when he was awoken suddenly, and Doug definitely did not need him to do that and fall. If he fell, he could get hurt even worse than he was already, and Doug wanted to prevent that. Tom wasn't going to get hurt anymore. Doug would make sure of that.

With the younger man laying in his arms, Doug followed La Bizca and the rebels. He had one arm under Tom's head to support it, and another just under his back. Because Tom wasn't going to fall; Tom wasn't going to get hurt.

They walked through the trees, Doug clutching Tom's body close to his, being careful not to trip over any loose twigs or leaves. He didn't need to fall, drop Tom, and land on the younger man. Because if Doug were to accidentally hurt the younger offivcer, he would never be able to forgive himself; he wasn't even certain he would ever be able to forgive himself for bringing Tom to El Salvador in the first place. No matter what Tom said about it not being Doug's fault.

"Douglas."

"Wha-a?" Doug responded, losing track of his thoughts and nearly tripping. He caught himself just in time and clutched Tom even harder; for a second he had come close to dropping his friend.

"We are here. The village."

Doug turned his attention away from the woman's face, and instead focused it on what lay mere feet in front of him. It was night, but simple light fixtures had been set up, so Doug could see it fairly well; a small village lay ahead, with shabbily built houses and a dirt road. It wasn't the nicest place, but Doug was surprised. The houses seemed professionally built, and although the road was dirt, it seemed flat enough to travel on, and no ditches or obtrusions that could destroy a person's path lay anywhere. To Doug, it seemed to be the greatest thing he had ever seen.

"This is great," Doug spoke aloud. "You guys really built all this?"

"The men," La Bizca started. "They started building for the women with child. They needed homes to rest. Now it is our village."

"It's great. Really," Penhall responded, loosening the grip he had on Tom. This place made him feel peaceful and at ease. He finally felt free; Tom was finally free.

"Thank you. We bring Thomas so he can rest. Come with me."

La Bizca started off again and soon they came to a stop outside of a small house.

"Wait here," La Bizca told them. "I must go tell my mother that you are here."

"Oh, okay." Doug's arms were starting to hurt now; although Tom was light, it got harder carrying him after doing so for that long. But Doug didn't mind, because soon enough Tom would be resting on a bed, or whatever was supplied for use.

A few minutes passed, and Doug shifted his arms a little; Tom moaned but didn't awake and the older man breathed a sigh of relief. A few more minutes went by and La Bizca was coming back out, followed by an elderly woman and a young boy.

"This is Amaelia," La Bizca told Doug. "My mother."

"Douglas?" the elder asked, her voice thick with the Spanish accent. "Está eso usted?"

"Si, senora," Doug replied with a small smile. Tom shifted and moaned in his arms and Doug added, "Y este es mi amigo, Tom. Thomas."

"Thomas," the woman repeated. "Lo danan?"

Doug wasn't sure what she had said, and turned to La Bizca for help. She gave a small smile, then interpreted, "She asked is he injured?"

"Si," Doug replied. His smile disappeared and he looked down at Tom, a grim look on his face.

"Douglas," La Bizca spoke up, pushing the young boy in front of her. "This is Clavo, my son."

"Hey there buddy," Doug greeted, then quickly corrected himself as best he could, "Hey alli conejito."

Clavo looked up at his mother, a confused look etched into his features. La Bizca laughed, smiling at Doug. "Douglas, you called him a bunny."

"Oh I did?" Doug asked, smiling. He turned to face Clavo. "Apesadumbrado."

Clavo smiled and La Bizca responded with, "Buddy is compinche, Douglas."

"Oh alright," Doug agreed, maintaining his grip on Tom and leaning down to be at Clavo's level. " Hey alli compinche."

Clavo laughed, then replied with a quiet, "Hola," before darting behind his mother.

"He is shy when first meet strangers," La Bizca said as an explanation. "Once he gets to know you, he won't be. But come inside. We put Thomas on bed to rest."

"Yeah, that'd be great," Doug answered, following the family inside.

La Bizca led Doug through a small room and to a cot and pointed to it. "It is Marta's bed," she explained sadly. There were two other beds situated beside this one, and Doug guessed that one was for Amealia, and the other for La Bizca and Clavo.

"Have you-" Doug started as he gently placed Tom on the bed.

"No word has come yet. But we will be first to know."

"Okay good," Doug replied. "That's good."

Tom moaned again and rolled onto his side, his back facing the two. Doug looked down at his friend, worried.

"He will be okay," La Bizca spoke up. "I can go get the doctor."

"No. No, not unless Tom says so." Doug remembered Tom's strict order at having nobody touch him, and Doug wasn't about to let anybody. Even if he was a doctor and could help. Sure, Doug knew that Tom needed to be looked, but if anything were to happen, then it would be with Tom's permission.

"Okay," La Bizca replied, smiling sadly. "When he wakes, he can get cleaned up. We have clean clothes he could wear. You can go clean up now."

"I don't think-"

"I will watch Thomas. Don't worry Douglas, he is safe here."

"Yeah, okay. Okay."

La Bizca walked off towards her mother, who was doing something with Clavo – it looked like she was cooking something - and Doug looked down at his friend. He seemed so small because he had curled his legs up to his chest, and his face was scrunched together in pain. Doug sighed; he may have gotten Tom out of that place, but it would be a long time for any of the memories and pain of being there to be gone as well.

* * *

_Interpretations:_

**Está eso usted: **Is that you

**Si senora:** Yes madame

**Y este es mi amigo, Tom. Thomas:** This is my friend Tom. Thomas

**Hey alli conejito:** Hey there bunny

**Apesadumbrado:** Sorry

**Compinche: **Buddy

**TBC...**


	11. Fooling Doug

LilaGrace: Oh sorry for coming off like that... Thanks for the review, glad you're enjoying...

Rubydoo: Thanks... Glad you're enjoying this... Also, thanks for reviweing V-Day...

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

"Douglas!" came a frantic voice, breaking through the thin barrier of the wooden door and surrounding wall. "Thomas is awake. But he is screaming – he will not stop!"

Doug had been in the small washroom, using a small bucket of water and a cloth to wipe the dirt and blood that he was covered in when the banging had started; quick, hard knocks on the wooden door, startling him into almost dropping the bucket – almost, but not quite – and then there was the urgent yells.

Tom was awake and screaming-

Doug quickly pulled his clothes back on, not caring that they were dirty and all his washing would go to waste; he needed to get to Tom. The older officer swung the door open, rushing past a frantic La Bizca and now. Now he could hear the screaming, "G-Go away!" was being repeated by Tom and he sounded scared. Scared and lost. Doug's heart beat and pace quickened as he made his way down the small hallway; he could hear La Bizca following him, but at a slower pace, but didn't really care – He had to get to Tom.

And it seemed to take forever.

It was a small house; the bed, kitchen and living area were just at the end of the hallway, but to Doug it seemed to take hours to get to his destination. Then he was there. Doug stopped beside the bed and immediately sat down beside his friend; the latter was sitting with his back pushed into the wall, knees pulled to his chest, and his eyes scrunched together in pain.

"Tom-Tommy?" Doug asked, trying to focus his friend's attention on him, rather than what it was currently focused on. Doug didn't know, but he guessed that Tom was probably reliving memories of when he was with the soldiers. And Doug didn't want Tom to do that; not now, not ever. "Tommy, please, it's Doug. I just–I need you to open your eyes, okay?"

Doug desperately wanted to pull the younger man into a hug, but Tom's earlier protests against being touched quickly diminished that thought. All Doug had was his voice, and he was going to do his best with it.

"Please Tommy," Doug continued, "You're safe now – All you gotta do is open your eyes."

Seeing that his pleads were not working, Doug took a chance; he reached out and took hold of the younger man's hand, gripping it tightly. "C'mon Tommy, you just gotta open your eyes."

Tom stopped his screaming, which had turned into silent pleads, and squeezed Doug's hand tight. Then slowly, his eyelids fluttered open, and brown eyes were soon focused on Doug's own. Blinking away unshed tears, Tom whispered, "They–they were here Doug. They were trying to–I told them to stop but, but," Tom stopped, tightening the grip. "They–they wouldn't stop; they wouldn't go away."

"It was just a dream," Doug replied, "You're safe now, they can't get you here."

"Where–where am I?" Tom suddenly asked, glancing around nervously.

"This is La Bizca's house," Doug explained, "And look, over there," Doug continued, pointing at Amaelia and Clavo; the elderly woman held her grandson close, and Doug could hear silent sobs - Tom's screaming had probably scared him. "Over there?"

Tom turned his gaze in the direction Doug was pointing to and nodded his head slowly, "Yeah..."

"That's Amalia; La Bizca's mother, and Clavo, her son. They're friends, Tommy, they aren't going to hurt you."

Tom suddenly averted his gaze, once again looking at the other man. "I-I don't remember. How did we. How did we get here?"

Tom's voice sounded so lost and childlike and it scared Doug; it scared him to know that his friend felt lost, possibly scared. But he would help him get over that. No matter how long it took, Doug would help Tom get better.

"You remember the prison, right?" Doug asked, immediately regretting it when Tom shuddered at the memories. "Well, you remember the rebels?" Doug continued.

"Y-yeah," Tom replied. "I remember that. But-but after-"

"The shooting? Remember that, when we were outside?"

Tom nodded, staring intently at his best friend, then responded slowly, "Yeah..."

"Well, I pulled us to the ground, but you went unconscious, so I carried you here."

"You-you carried me?"

"Course I did Tommy, I wasn't gonna leave you there," Doug replied, giving a slight smile.

Tom responded with an incoherent mumble and pulled his hand out of the other man's grip.

"Tommy-What-?" Doug started but Tom glared at him and moved away.

"Nothing Doug, just-just go away."

Doug looked around for La Bizca and saw that she now held a now sleeping Clavo.

"I'm not goin' anywhere Tom. What'd you say?"

"I said," Tom hissed slowly, staring hard at his friend, "That you shoulda; you shoulda just left me there."

"What?" Doug exclaimed, "Why the Hell would I do that?" he hissed.

"Woulda been better off if you had, " Tom replied bitterly.

"What?" Doug responded, "No-no way I'd ever leave you behind, man. You're my best friend man, and I wouldn't be better off without you."

"I was just saying-" Tom started in a whisper, turning his head away from the other man's, not wanting to look at him anymore.

"Well don't!" Doug cried, abruptly cutting Tom off. He instantly regretted this, however, when the younger man flinched and moved further away. "Oh god, Tommy. I-I never meant-"

"Just go away, Doug," Tom whispered. "Just leave me alone."

"Tommy, please; I'm sorry.," Doug replied; he had never meant to hurt Tom; to _scare_ him.

"_I don't care_," Tom hissed. "I just wanna be left alone."

"Alright," Doug agreed, then continued, "But if you wanna get cleaned up and changed-"

"I-I can?" Tom interrupted. He felt dirty; he needed to wipe away the dirt and filth that covered his entire body.

"Yeah, c'mon." Doug hoped Tom would agree and go with him; he would hate it if Tom was too scared to be near him.

"Yeah, th-thanks. And-and sorry. About what I just said-"

"It's okay," Doug replied, once again gripping Tom's hand and standing, pulling the younger man to his feet as well. "Can you walk now?" he asked.

"I-I feel a little dizzy, so-so-" Tom stumbled and Doug quickly grabbed him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Okay, just take it slow, then, okay?"

Tom nodded and wrapped his arm around the older man's neck; Doug led him to the washroom, and once there, Tom leaned heavily against the wall.

"Okay, I'm just gonna go get some clean water, 'kay?"

"Y-eah," Tom replied weakly.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

"Wait," Tom called, and Doug stopped. "Is-is the water gonna be hot?"

"No, it's cold," Doug answered, "Why?"

"J-just wondering."

"Oh, well, okay; just wait here, 'kay?"

Tom managed a weak grin, wanting Doug to believe he truly was okay. Even if he wasn't. "Do I get an extra cookie?" he asked.

Doug could tell the smile on his friend's face was fake; he could see the empty look in his eyes. So he laughed, a weak chuckle, then responded with, "Oh yeah, course you can."

"Guess I'm stayin' then," Tom replied. Doug nodded in agreement, then turned to leave.

"Doug, wait," Tom called, and Doug once again turned, "What?"

"You-you forgot the bucket."

"Oh right," Doug laughed. "Guess I'll need that, huh?" He reached out for the small bucket, and once it was in his hands, he turned to face the younger man. "Hey Tommy?" he asked casually.

"Y-yeah?"

"You feelin' okay, 'cause there's a doctor and-"

"No," Tom stated firmly. "I-I'm fine. I don't need a doctor."

"He could help, figure out if anything's broken..."

"No Doug," Tom whispered. "I-I don't want. I don't-" Tom's voice broke and tears welled in his eyes. "Please don't make me," he pleaded.

"Whoa, Tommy," Doug quickly responded. "I never said I would make you, and I never would; it's just, I thought he could help, it seemed like a good idea. But you don't have to if you don't want to."

"I-I do," Tom replied shakily. "I-I know it'd be good but," he stopped, wiping at his eyes. "I'm scared," he admitted, destroying his own facade.

"I understand, man," Doug replied. "I mean, you know me and doctors?"

"Ye-ah," Tom answered. "Are you-? Are you scared of them?"

"No, I just," the older officer started. "I just, I don't trust them. So yeah, guess I am kinda afraid."

"Why though? Why do you hate them so much?"

"Saw way too many as a kid, and even more as a teenager. And it wasn't fun."

"Oh," Tom replied sheepishly. "Right."

"Look, I'm gonna go get some more water," Doug decided. "Just think about it, okay?"

"Y-yeah," Tom agreed. "Tell them I say thanks, will you?"

"Will do," Doug replied, then turned and left the washroom.

Tom breathed in, then out, sharply. He knew he wasn't okay, but he wanted so badly to make it seem like he was. He had seen how Doug had looked at him; had known his friend hadn't bought his attempt at humour; his smile. But he had faked being okay enough times after his father's death that he knew it would be just as easy now; he knew he would soon be able to make Doug believe he was okay. Because he had fooled countless doctors and therapists, his mother, and Russell Buckins; he knew fooling Doug wouldn't be any different.


	12. Not Supposed To Be Scared

Deppfreak: Thanks... Uh, yeah, short but meh... Uhm, I'm gonna try and upload more than one chap at a time but uhm... Okay, so... glad ya still like it though Uhm, yeah... Tortured Hanson here for sure

Rubydoo: Uhm, thanks for your review of I Already Have A Cat... Uhm, it's okay... been takin' me awhile to post... Uhm, thanks, glad you like it

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

"Hey Tommy, feel any better?"

Tom nodded his head slowly; he still felt dirty and sick, but lying was only the beginning. He had to fool Doug into believing he was okay. "Yeah. Clothes are kinda big though," he replied, voice silent and trying to smile.

"Least they're clean, right?"

The clothes were big, but not by much; the shirt hung just above Tom's knees and the sleeves just past his elbows; the pants were baggy and were rolled up in a thick cuff at his bare feet. But yeah, they were clean; it was better than nothing.

"Yeah," Tm whispered. "What about you? Do you need to-"

"Yeah, yeah I do," Doug answered, purposely leaving out the fact he had already tried earlier; he didn't need Tom feeling guilty about tearing Doug from his 'shower' or 'bath' or whatever it could be called. "Yeah, I got some clothes too-" Doug held up clothes similar to Tom's, expect that the shirt was a lighter green. "I was plannin' on goin' once you were finished," he smiled.

Tom gave his own weak grin, "Yeah, go ahead then, I'm done."

"Yeah. Uh hey, if ya want, Clavo's up for another hour..."

"I-I. Can I wait for you?" Tom cut off in a whisper, staring at Doug like a small child lectured about stealing a cookie or drawing on the wall with crayons.

"Well yeah, but I just thought-"

"I-I don't know them," Tom cut off. "Please Doug, I just wanna wait here."

They were standing in the hallway that led to the washroom, out of hearing range of the other occupants of the house. Only La Bizca spoke English, but Doug hadn't wanted to get her involved.

"Okay, just wait here then," Doug reasoned. "I'll try and be quick."

Tom looked down at the floor, twisting the bottom of 'his' shirt in his hands. "Doug, I-I just... When are we going home?"

"Soon Tommy, but I gotta wait. For Marta."

"Oh right," Tom whispered. "Guess I'll wait here, then, okay?"

"Tommy-"

"Just go, 'kay? You stink."

Tom's attempt at humour didn't phase Doug and he continued. "C'mon Tommy, don't-don't be like this. I swear we'll get home soon," he tried to reason. "La Bizca says news of Marta will come through here first. As soon as I find her, I swear we're all gonna go home."

"She's probably dead," Tom whispered bitterly and Doug stared at him, stunned; angered.

"Why the Hell would you say that?" Doug yelled, angered and hurt.

"Because it's true!" Tom yelled back. "She's gone, can't you understand that? Why do ya gotta be so damned attached to everything!"

Doug snapped; he hadn't wanted to; he hadn't wanted to hurt his friend, but this wasn't Tom. The Thomas Hanson he knew would never say anything like that; at least Doug didn't think he would. But Tom had changed into something unpredictable; he had been broken and was now a completely different person that Doug didn't know. So the older man snapped; he shoved Tom into the wall, anger gleaming in his eyes. "Shut up Tom, you don't... You don't know-" Doug's voice broke but his grip on the younger man still stayed strong, "What you're talking about," he finished, face inches from the other man's, anger and pain shining in his eyes.

"G-get off," Tom whispered, fear laced into his tone. "Doug I..." Now his voice broke and tears shone in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I never meant it. Really. I'm so sorry." A tear fell down Tom's face; Doug had stuck by him through everything he had gone through, and he had just said _that_. He wasn't even sure why, just that he had said it; he knew he had been thinking, and then it had just slipped out.

"Shit Tommy-" Doug whispered, pulling away. "Why did you say it then?"

"I-I don't know. Doug, I'm scared. I just want to go home."

Tom mentally cursed himself; he wasn't doing a very good job at pretending he was okay. In time though, a few hours even, he knew he would have it down; he just had to relax and settle into the facade – like he had done many times before.

"Yeah, sorry for-for pushin' you," Doug apologized. "It just pissed me off."

"Yeah," the younger officer mumbled. "I-I thought you were gonna hit me. Doug, you-you scared me."

'Shit,' was all Doug could think, because he was the only person here Tom could truly trust, and he had just gone and betrayed him; he had scared him. And it hadn't been the first time, either.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Tom didn't believe him, though; he knew he could, and should, trust the other man, but he couldn't. In truth, he was scared of him. And he didn't even know the exact reason why. All he knew was that he was afraid of his best friend and had no idea why.

"What is wrong with me?" was all he could think, not hearing Doug when he said he was going to wash; not noticing when the older man left. He didn't notice when he leaned against the wall and slid down; he didn't remember closing his eyes and he didn't remember falling asleep. All he could remember was Doug yelling at him; pushing him; hurting him; _scaring him_.

* * *

TBC... 


	13. Juego!

LilaGrace: No no, would never abandon thisstory... Thanks for the review... Yes, there will be a sequel... I love Doug/Tom... And I don't mind Dennis/Tom, either, but I prefer Doug/Tom... But no Doug/Tom in this or the sequel...

rubydoo: Thanks... Glad you've all stuck with me...

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

Tom stood cautiously behind Doug, afraid of the people he was about to meet. He knew there was no reason to be afraid - they were just an elderly woman and a young boy, after all – but Tom still had a strong distrust for anybody in El Salvador, and the fear had come on instinct.

"Okay Tom, this is Amaelia and Clavo," Doug started, but once he realized that Tom was behind him, he turned and whispered softly, "It's okay, you don't gotta hide. They ain't gonna hurt you."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Tom replied sheepishly, ashamed of being afraid of the two persons in front of him. "Hola," he greeted, stepping out from behind Doug. He didn't know that much Spanish, but Doug and La Bizca were there and they could help; he would definitely need it, that was for sure.

Doug smiled at Tom; he was glad that the younger man had gotten enough courage to say hello to Clavo and Amaelia. Doug figured that Tom might cheer up if he were to meet the small boy who had already become quite attached to Doug himself. Now the older officer turned to face Amaelia and introduced his friend, "Este es Thomas; mi amigo."

Amaelia smiled brightly, and Clavo looked up at Tom curiously, eyes wide. "Si," Amaelia replied, nodding her head, "Recuerdo. De antes."

Tom looked at Doug, a look of curiosity sketched into his facial features, unsure of what the elderly woman had said.

"She says she remembers you, from before," Doug translated. "When we first got here."

"Oh, right," Tom replied, hanging his head.

"Hey, it's okay," Doug said. "You were hurt, she understands."

"Yeah," Tom whispered.

Then something Doug hadn't expected happened; Clavo ran up to Tom and started pulling on his shirt, shouting, "Juego! Juego!" Tom had jumped at the sudden contact, but upon seeing it was Clavo, smiled at the young boy, leaning down so he was at eye level. "Hola Clavo," he said.

"Juego!" Clavo shouted and Tom started laughing. And Doug smiled; this wasn't the fake laugh Tom had used earlier; this one was full of joy and emotion and this made Doug laugh himself. Maybe Tom would get better sooner than he thought.

"Thomas," La Bizca broke in, "Clavo wants you to play with him. Play?"

Tom looked at the younger woman and smiled, then he turned back to Clavo, "Si. Juego," he spoke slowly, testing out his Spanish. Clavo beamed in excitement, then grabbed Tom's hand and pulled him to a small table in the corner.

Doug watched as his friend was pulled away and smiled at the amusement in Tom's features.

"Douglas," Amaelia spoke up. "Usted juego tambien?"

Doug smiled slowly, chuckling. He was about to 'juego' with a six-year old and Tom. Then again, maybe it would help Tom; so far being around Clavo had seemed to cheer him up a bit, and Doug figured if Tom was willing to do it, he could too. "Si," he replied with a shrug, walking over to the small table and joining his 'playmates'. If it would help Tom, Doug would do it. But soon, though; soon he knew he needed to get Tom back to America where there were proper hospitals; there he could fully help Tom get better, without the use of small action figures and a six-year old Clavo.

Or so he thought.

* * *

_Interpretations:_

**Este es Thomas; mi amigo:** This is Tom; my friend

**Si... Recuerdo. De antes: **Yes. I remember. From before

**Juego:** Play

**Hola Clavo:** Hello Clavo

**Usted juego tambien:** You play as well?

TBC...


	14. Epilogue

LilaGrace: You are very welcome... Yes, I prefer angsty Tom... LMAO... Wow, no I do not think that... Yes, I love vulnerable Tom... And gay couples are cute...

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

"You okay Tom?"

Tom nodded his head; he wasn't okay, he knew that, but he wasn't about to admit that to Doug. Because Doug didn't have time for him and his problems anymore; Doug had Clavo now, and needed to put all his attention on the young boy. Besides, Tom was twenty-five; he could take care of himself.

"You sure? You look like kinda pale..."

Doug held a sleeping Clavo in one arm, and a suitcase in the other; this was full of the small boy's personal possessions, since the two officers had lost all of theirs.

"I'm fine Doug, just tired."

"Oh, well, okay," Doug replied, placing Clavo down in one of the plastic airport seats. "You can sleep on the plane."

"Yeah," Tom mumbled, knowing he probably wouldn't.

"Okay, I gotta go get us cleared through, since we got him," Doug gestured at Clavo, "Now. Can you watch him a second?"

"Yeah, yeah sure," Tom mumbled, sinking into the seat beside Clavo and groaning.

"You sure you-"

"Fine," Tom snapped. "Just go, I wanna get outta here."

"Yeah, fine," Doug replied, walking away. Under his breath, he muttered, "If looks could kill..."

**----**

"Tommy, you want window or aisle?"

"Uh, aisle, window; it doesn't really matter to me."

"Okay, good. I was thinkin' I should take the aisle seat, in case Clavo's gotta go to the washroom."

"Oh right," Tom replied, "Right, sorry, you go ahead and take it."

"It's okay, no need to apologize – not like you got your name etched intro the seat."

Tom mumbled something and sunk into his seat; he stared at Doug as he buckled Clavo into the seat in between both of them. Luckily he was still sleeping, and only mumbled something incoherent in his sleep when Doug brushed the seatbelt across his stomach as he locked it into place.

"All set," Doug grinned. "You sure you're okay Tom?"

"Yes," Tom replied angrily. "So stop askin' okay?"

"Sorry," Doug responded sheepishly, raising his hands in a gesture of apology. "Just makin' sure."

"You've already done it," Tom answered, his tone more gentle now. "It's annoying."

Doug laughed, grinning at the younger man. "Yeah, guess I was kinda pesterin' you huh?"

"S'okay," Tom mumbled. "I'm just glad to be getting' away from here."

"Yeah, me too," Doug agreed, sitting down in his own seat.

Tom sighed and nodded; he was tired and exhausted and really was glad to be going home. He leaned his head back against the seat and had just closed his eyes when a feminine vice echoed throughout the plane, "Will all passengers please fasten their seat belts and prepare for take off."

Tom wearily opened his eyes and clumsily pulled his seatbelt over his lap and locked it in place; hopefully he would be able to get some sleep. With one last glance at Doug, Tom's eyes shut and his head fell back against the seat; maybe he would get some sleep, after all.

----

Tom groaned as somebody shook his shoulder; all he wanted to do was sleep.

"Tom–Tommy, wake up," a voice hissed and Tom slowly opened his eyes, blinking away the crusted remains of sleep. "What?' he asked, leaning forward and letting out a sharp cry of _ow_ as something cracked in the back of his neck.

"We're home," Doug responded cheerfully, a goofy grin plastered on his face. Clavo was still in his seat, except now he was awake and staring at Tom with excitement in his eyes; he was pulling at his seatbelt, trying to get 'free'.

"We-we are?" Tom asked; had he really slept the entire way back?

"Yup, now c'mon, let's get off this thing," Doug responded, unbuckling Clavo and lifting him out of his seat. With the boy once against nestled in his arm, Doug stepped back, giving Tom the space he needed to stand and stretch.

"I got the suitcase," Tom offered, reaching up and pulling said object down; it wasn't heavy, but Tom's body, mainly his limbs that would be useful, didn't seem to want to work. He dropped the suitcase immediately, and with a jolt of fear, was gone.

Tom, upon the dropping the suitcase, fled, afraid Doug was going to be mad at him for screwing up. So he pushed passed the older officer quickly and was soon off the plane. Except he didn't know where to go, or how to get anywhere. Defeated, Tom slumped into a chair, hunched over with his head between his legs. He had dropped it, and now Doug was going to be mad and... And Tom didn't know what would happen but he was sure it would end in pain.

"Tom!" a voice shouted but the wanted man ignored the call; he just wanted to sink into the chair; to become a part of the inanimate object and disappear.

"Damn it Tom!" the voice called again, then in an angrier tone, "Get the Hell away from me man, this kid belongs to me!"

Tom looked up at this outburst, and saw that Doug was struggling to keep Clavo out of the grip of a security guard. "Hey!" he called, standing and rushing over. "We're cops you idiot!" he shouted, trying to push the security guard away. "We obviously got him back here legally, or else we wouldn't be comin' outta this plane with him!"

Doug stared at Tom, surprised. He hadn't expected that.

"Tom man, just show him the slip we got, and your passport." Doug was now struggling to calm down Clavo, who had started crying at the sudden angered argument.

"Oh, right,." Tom mumbled, glaring at the security and digging through his pockets and pulling out the required information. "Here," he hissed angrily, shoving the paper into the guard's hands. "Look. We're legal."

The guard quickly looked over the papers, then shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, I never knew-"

"Well you do now," Tom hissed, walking away quickly.

"Sorry 'bout that," Doug said to the man, "He's had a rough couple of days."

"You're just getting' back from Salvador?" the guard asked. Doug nodded, adjusting Clavo in his arms; he had stopped crying, but was shaking a little.

"Then it's understandable," the guard replied. "Take good care of them both then. And good luck." The guard walked away then, and Doug turned his attention to Tom; he was once again slumped in his seat, head down, and Doug sighed; Tom's mood swings were coming more frequently, and more so was the anger. And it worried him, because Tom rarely ever became that angry without an extremely good reason. _Then again_ Doug thought. _The_ _guy was trying to take Clavo away. Seemed like a pretty good reason to get angry. _Yeah, except the Tom Doug had first known would never get pissed off like _that_ and get into the face of an authority figure unless there was an extremely, honest to God, plausible reason. And this just didn't seem to cut it. Then again, this wasn't the Tom Doug had first met; this was a changed man, and Doug wasn't sure what to expect.

----

"I called Fuller."

Tom nodded but didn't say anything.

"You should tell him."

"No," Tom whispered. "No Doug, you can't-you can't tell him. And I'm not, I can't... Please," Tom whispered, struggling with what he was trying to say.

"Why?" Doug asked. "What if you caught something, huh? You'll have to tell him, especially if you get sick because of it."

"No!" Tom yelled. "Damn it Doug, I-I was raped," Tom whispered, his tone laced with pain, fear, and anger. "It's not somethin' I want people to know about."

"I understand. Will you at least go to the hospital then?"

"I-I don't-"

"Then I'm tellin' Fuller. If he knows, then you'll have to go-"

"I hate you," Tom hissed angrily. "You're such a fuckin' bastard." Then he stood heatedly and walked away quickly, leave Doug alone, and unable to follow.

"Tom! Damn it Hanson!" Doug yelled, sitting down angrily. He knew there was a pretty good chance Tom had caught _something_ and he really wanted his friend to see a doctor. Instead he had made the younger man hate him. _Great, smooth move Penhall _he thought to himself bitterly.

----

"Doug?" a soft female voice asked. Doug looked up and found himself staring into brown eyes. "You don't know how good it is to see you Jude," he said, relieved. It was nice to see a familiar face.

"Where's Tom?"

"Uh. Washroom, I think," Doug lied. "I'll go look for him, watch Clavo."

Doug stood and started to move away when Judy's questioned repetition of the name stopped him. "Clavo," he repated, "Marta's nephew..." Seeing Judy's confused expression, Doug laughed and continued, "I'll explain later, once I found Tom."

"Uh, okay," Judy replied nervously.

"Where's Fuller," Doug asked quickly, realizing the older man was nowhere to be seen.

"Got held up at work. He sent me instead."

"Oh, okay." Doug knelt down in front of Clavo and began speaking in Spanish, introducing Judy, "Estes es Judy, mi amigo," he started. "Ella va a permanecer con usted mientras que busco Tom, autorizacion?"

Clavo nodded slowly, then looked at Judy curiously, then back at Doug. "Judy?" he asked.

"Yup," Doug nodded, ruffling the boy's hair. "Estare detras, prometos."

Clavo nodded, then turned and smiled at Judy. "Hola Judy," he greeted. The young woman laughed and responded with her own "Hola Clavo."

Doug smiled at th two as he stood and headed towards the washrooms, hoping he would find Tom; the next few months were going to be tough, but Doug would make sure that he got Tom and Clavo through them. It would just take time.

* * *

_Interpretations:_

**Estes es Judy, mi amigo: **This is Judy, my friend

**Ella va a permanecer con usted mientras que busco Tom, autorizacion: **She is going to stay with you while I look for Tom, okay

**Estare detras, prometos: **I'll be back, I promise

* * *

**Sequel is called Paper Wings...**


End file.
